First draft of new story “Shipbirth”, finished. Sort of SF. With Aztecs and spaceships. Put it up on OWW as it is, before my inner editor took over and slashed it to ribbons.
Black One take me, I shouldn’t be here, Acoimi thought, as the airtight tube finished attaching itself, with a slight hiss. The voice of the Hungry Coyote’s Mind echoed around him–grave and thoughtful, yet somehow too high-pitched, too cold to be that of a male, or indeed of any human. “Linking complete. Disembark.”
The walls around Acoimi throbbed, like a bleeding muscle or heart–the beat of the Mind that was everywhere, that communed with the Hungry Coyote as easily as with the Heavens. The ship had been in deep planes for ten days, the whole journey between Quetzalcoatl and this lonely rendezvous place; and for ten days Acoimi had felt himself going subtly, irremediably mad.
Meanwhile, I will go and drink tea, and read more episodes of Schlock Mercenary (homicidal mercenary company out to make money, and sometimes save people as collateral effects. Huge fun).